Easy Recipes

The first green asparagus of spring get a whole lot of love. Which I wholly understand — its been a long winter, and theyre totally delicious. But just a month or two behind them, there’s another green shoot that deserves its own parade: the garlic scape.

Garlic scapes, also known as garlic curls, or, adorably, whistles, are the twisted green tops of garlic plants. They’re generally cut to about eight-inch lengths, ranging from slightly bent stalks to irregular curlicues. Scapes are harvested in late spring/early summer (the season is hard-to-predict and fairly brief, but is happening right now in Portland) as a neat little gardeners trick: trim off the tips before the seed pods swells and matures, and in exchange that energy goes towards making larger garlic bulbs underground. And, as an added bonus, you get to eat the scapes.

Like garlic itself, scapes pack a punch when raw (though they’re not quite as intense as the bulb). You can use this to your advantage, adding a fine mince to dishes that will benefit from a strong flavor. But with just a bit of heat, scapes’ harshness softens, leaving a mellower garlic note, paired with their spring-green taste.

Scapes are easily turned into a pungent pesto—its got some bite, but can be tamed by tossing with hot pasta or spreading on bread and placing it under the broiler. They can be brushed with oil and tossed directly on the grill, or bathed in vinegar for a pungent pickle. Like spring ramps, scapes work especially well when paired with mellow ingredients that let their flavor shine through: cook them up with eggs, pasta, or creamy dairy-rich dishes.

For this dish, I put the scapes up against a backdrop of saffron-scented couscous, along with briny-sweet shrimp, creamy feta, and bright fresh mint leaves. Its simple enough to throw together for a weeknight dinner or picnic, but elegant enough for a fancy meal. I trimmed the scapes into bite-sized lengths, to make it a bit more manageable, but if youre game its far more fun to leave them as they are — like little green scraps of ribbon from your own spring garden party.


Israeli Couscous with Garlic Scapes, Shrimp and Feta

yields ~4-5 servings

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 cups Israeli couscous
1 ½ cups water
1 cup vegetable broth (or just use all water, and add a bit more salt)
½ teaspoon salt
1 hefty pinch saffron
juice of ½ lemon
6-8 garlic scapes, cut into pieces or left whole
1 pound shrimp, shelled
⅓ cup crumbled feta
a handful fresh mint leaves, roughly torn if they’re large
salt and pepper

Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a large saucepan over a medium-high heat. Add the couscous, and cook for a few minutes, stirring so that the couscous is coated with oil and lightly toasted. Add the water, broth, saffron and salt. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat until it’s just high enough to maintain a simmer. Simmer, covered, until the liquid is absorbed and the couscous is tender, ~8-10 minutes. Turn off the heat and let sit, covered, to absorb any remaining liquid for a few minutes. Then add the lemon juice, stir to fluff/combine, and add salt and pepper to taste (you can also drizzle in more olive oil if you want). Transfer to a serving platter.

Heat the remaining tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet over a medium-high heat. Add the garlic scapes, and saute for a minute or two, until they turn bright green and tender. Sprinkle with a bit of salt, and scatter on top of the couscous.

Add the shrimp, and saute for a few minutes, stirring, until pink and cooked through. Season with salt, and scatter, along with any pan juices, on top of the couscous and scapes. Top with the feta and fresh mint, and serve.

Sometimes Im all over the perfect dish for the season, anticipating things a few weeks out. These past few weeks Ive been chafing at the bit with a lovely concord grape recipe, calling a circuit of grocery stores every few days to ask Are they in yet? How about tomorrow? Maybe Monday? Im surprised the produce departments keep answering the phone. But other times, well -- not so much. And so, as the cold and windy rains roll into Portland, I present to you the perfect picnic dish. On the bright side, itll still be good for Autumnal potlucks.

As Ive mentioned before, Im a sucker for the combination of spinach and feta. But instead of a warm and uber-cheesy casserole, this is a light, herb-studded couscous salad (even healthier if you, like me, go with whole wheat couscous), with bright and juicy cherry tomatoes offsetting the small amount of briny feta. The spinach is just slightly wilted enough to be manageable and allow you to stuff copious amounts of it into the finished salad (using the residual heat of the couscous along with the old Mediterranean trick of rubbing it with salt), but its still bright green and fresh-tasting. Thanks to a sweep at the farmers market I used a combination of fresh basil, dill, parsley and mint, but it would be good with a few handfuls of whatever fresh herbs you have.

And speaking of things you think of just in the nick of time, heres an article about matzo ball soup, in honor of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year that begins tomorrow night. Perhaps getting a bit more on top of things will be one of my resolutions.



Couscous Salad with Spinach, Feta, Cherry Tomatoes and Herbs

makes a sizable picnic or potluck contribution, or serves ~6 as a light main dish

2 1/2  cups water or broth
2 cups whole wheat couscous
~1/4 cup olive oil, divided
1 bunch spinach, washed and chopped fairly small
3 scallions, thinly-sliced
1 large handful fresh dill, chopped
1 large handful fresh parsley, chopped
1 large handful fresh mint, chopped
1 small handful fresh mint, chopped
juice of 1 lemon
scant 1/4 cup crumbled feta
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes (Im currently obsessed with sungolds), halved, or quartered if theyre large
salt and pepper

Heat the water or broth (salt it if youre using water) to a boil in a pot. Add the couscous and a dollop of olive oil. Stir and bring it back to a boil, then turn off the flame and let sit, covered, for five minutes.

While the couscous is sitting, place the spinach in a large bowl. Sprinkle it with a bit of salt, then scrunch it in your hands to distribute the salt and cause the spinach to wilt slightly. Top with the scallions.

When the couscous is done, fluff it with a fork, and tip it on top of the spinach and the scallions, letting the heat of the couscous soften the greens. Let sit a few minutes while you chop the remaining fresh herbs.

After the couscous has sat for a few minutes, add the remaining herbs along with the remaining olive oil and the lemon juice. Toss, mixing the ingredients well (which will also cool off the couscous a bit). Add the feta, cherry tomatoes and a few grinds of pepper, and toss gently to combine. Taste and adjust seasonings and olive oil/lemon juice balance as needed. Serve warm or cold.

My friend Emily often talks about being willing to "re-meet" someone -- to set aside earlier impressions youve formed (rightly or wrongly), and give people another chance to show you who they can be. Its a lovely concept. All too often we are boxed in by previous assumptions or rumors, which can keep us from getting to know some truly extraordinary people. Or, in this case, salads. 

In general, I dont think of myself as a terribly fussy eater. I mean, sure, I want my food to be good, and made of actual food and all that. But my prohibitions are fairly minimal: I hate hate hate bananas. Im not too keen on cooked bell peppers, after their over-use in the college food service vegetarian menu. And I dont like to mix my sweet and my savory.

Or, rather, I thought I didnt. As it turns out, sweet and savory can combine into some truly great dishes. Im not talking about raisin-studded green salads, or industrial catering wild-rice-with-dried-cranberry pilafs (which might have been how I came up with this aversion in the first place). Im talking about a salad of drippy-sweet peaches, oh-so-green kale, sunny fresh corn and creamy feta.

I saw this recipe about a month ago on one of my favorite blogs, and pulled it out a few nights ago when I needed a dish to bring with me as I went to watch the local chimney swift migration with a few friends (What? Isnt that what you do on a summer evening?). I figured that even if I didnt like the combination, our potluck picnic would take care of any leftovers. But oh man did I love this. This salad was the perfect bit of Oregon bounty to accompany the natural beauty. The peaches are sweet and juicy, as is the corn (in a different way), but the deeply vegetal kale and briny feta tie it all together. And also, well, its just so pretty (using the purple-veined Red Russian kale doesnt hurt in that department). This salad is not the sweet-versus-savory fight I always fear -- its the very best of summer, from the trees and from the fields, coming together in beautiful harmony. I cant wait to find out whats going to surprise me next.


Kale, Peach, Corn and Feta Salad

from Last Nights Dinner, as inspired by a salad at Diner
serves ~6 (great accompanying a light pasta dish, as we enjoyed it, or just a crusty loaf of bread)

1/4 cup olive oil
juice of 1 lime
2 Tbsp sherry vinegar
dollop honey
salt and pepper
1/2 small red onion, sliced into thin half-moons
1 bunch kale (I like Red Russian), washed and torn into small pieces
1/2 bunch cilantro, washed and coarsely chopped
2 ears of corn, cut off the cob
3 peaches, cut into slim wedges
1/4 cup feta (preferably a moist, mild feta, like French or Israeli), crumbled

In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lime juice, sherry vinegar, honey, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Add the onion, and let sit for a few minutes to mellow. Add the kale and cilantro, and mix well to coat with the dressing (I like to sandwich two aluminum bowls together, and shake shake shake until its coated). Let the mixture sit for an hour for the kale to absorb the dressing and soften. Then scatter the corn, peaches and feta over the top and devour.

There are some combinations of flavors that just seem meant to be. Almost unavoidable, even. Tomatoes, basil and mozzarella. Peanut butter, bread and jam. Peaches, green beans and feta. And yes, I realize the latter triumvirate may not quote have the renown of the first two. It was something of a surprise to me, too. But such a delicious one.

I had the good fortune to climb over the fence earlier in the week and crash a ridiculously early dinner my neighbors were throwing in honor of some visiting friends. Tasked with bringing bread and salad, I swung by the market with some vague ideas. I considered several different ingredients (Baby zucchini? Pickling cucumbers?), trying to remember recipes Id browsed and pinned. But finally, I just settled on grabbing handfuls of the things that look most delicious on these warm summer days. The drippy-sweet and oh-so-fragrant peaches that have just appeared, a few handfuls of baby arugula, and the teensy haricot vert green beans. I picked up some creamy French feta, and a handful of the starting-to-wilt-but-still-totally-usable basil in the back of my own refrigerator. And something great happened.

The green-green-green crunch of tender haricot vert somehow works perfectly with the sweet and juicy peaches (although I bet regular green beans would work in a pinch). Arugula and basil give a spunky herbal edge against the sweetness, and creamy, briny feta ties it all together. I added a simple vinaigrette, with an extra dollop of honey and not too much sour. Since this happy discovery, the salad has already made an encore performance (youre welcome, book club!), and I aim to recreate it at least once more before the season ends. Because really, you cant argue with a meant-to-be combination like this one.


Summer Salad with Peaches, Haricot Vert and Feta

serves ~10 (this was for a potluck — can easily be halved)

~ 2 cups haricot vert (aka small & skinny green beans), any hard stem ends snapped off
1 produce bag of baby arugula
a few handfuls basil leaves (torn if large)
3-4 ripe peaches, sliced into slim wedges
~1/3 pound creamy feta, such as French or Israeli, cut into thin slabs (theyll crumble, but thats fine)

Dressing:
juice of 1 lime
1/2 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon honey
2-3 teaspoons mild vinegar, such as sherry
salt to taste

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. and have a strainer in the sink, and large bowl of ice water at the ready. When boiling, add the green beans, and cook until they turn a brighter green and just begin to become tender (this will only take a minute or two). When theyre done, dump them out into a strainer, then plunge into the ice water to stop the cooking. Let them sit there a few minutes until cool, and then drain.

To assemble the salad, place the arugula onto a super-large bowl or platter (or two reasonably large ones). Top with the basil, beans, peaches and feta.

Place the dressing ingredients in a jar with a tight-fitting lid (like a canning jar), and shake until emulsified. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed. Pour over the salad, and serve.

Several years ago I formed a lunch collective with a group of co-workers. We took turns bringing in food for each other, sharing the cooking load and saving each other from the truly dismal take-out options surrounding our office. In addition to saving time and money, the club exposed me to a whole library of other peoples recipes. But amidst the culinary excitement, some trends started to emerge. There are some ingredients that seem ubiquitous across the continents, and seem to travel in pairs. For one: chickpeas and tomatoes. This classic combination cropped up in Indian, Italian, and general hippie recipes across the board. I think I ate 4-5 variations on the theme. And another combination, one dear to my heart: the savory greens pie.

Even on this blog which only recently passed its first birthday, Ive already posted a few passes at this classic package. Theres my favorite spanakopita recipe, a Greek-inspired pairing of spinach with creamy feta, cottage cheese, and fresh dill. And this Middle Eastern take, with individual spinach turnovers studded with pine nuts and lemony sumac. And evidently I cant stop, because now Im going to tell you about the Turkish version: borek.

Borek is a catchall term that could describe a great range of savory pastries, from a phyllo-covered meat turnover to a little cigar-shaped package of cheese rolled in yufka dough. In this case, its a light yeasted dough layered with greens, herbs and feta cheese. Its lovely, and much easier than the dramatic presentation suggests. The original recipe calls for spinach, but I cooked down some Russian kale instead, and mixed it with a bunch of flat leaf parsley (inspired by the similarly sesame-studded Izmir flatbread in my favorite Paula Wolfert cookbook). Its substantial without being heavy, and since you dont have to worry about flaky phyllo, its a perfect travel food. There are reasons some things become classics.


Borek with Greens and Feta

adapted from Home Cooking in Montana, who translated it from the Romanian on Gabrielas Blog
yields 1 8" square borek

Dough
1/2 cup warm milk
1/4 cup plus 1 Tbsp warm water
1 3/4 tsp active yeast
2 cups flour (you can swap out half whole wheat flour--just add an additional Tbsp water)
3/4 tsp salt

Filling
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 bunch Russian or lacinato kale, washed and finely chopped
salt
1 small bunch flat-leaf parsley, washed and finely chopped
3/4 cup feta

To finish:
2-3 Tbsp melted butter or olive oil
1 egg, beaten
1 Tbsp sesame seeds

To make the dough: Pour the water and milk in a mixing bowl, sprinkle on the yeast, and allow to soften for a few minutes. Add the flour and salt, kneading with your hands or a dough hook for several minutes until you create a soft, pliable dough that just clears the sides of the bowl (if it doesnt, add a touch more flour). Cover and let sit for a few minutes while you prepare the filling.

To make the filling: Heat the oil over medium heat in a large pot. Add the kale and stir to coat with the oil, and sprinkle with a very light dusting of salt to draw water out. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the kale is softened. Add the parsley, and cook an additional minute. Remove from heat and stir in the crumbled feta.

To assemble and bake: Divide the dough into 3 equal pieces. Roll out the first piece to form a large rectangle, ~15"x17". Drizzle it with the melted butter or olive oil, and then scatter half the filling evenly over the top. Roll out the second piece of dough, lay it on top of the first, and repeat the process with melted butter and the remaining filling. Roll out the final piece of dough, lay it over the top, and drizzle with the remaining butter.

Fold the right- and left-hand sides in, so that they meet in the middle (you can consult the pictorial on this page, which gives you a better idea of the whole process). Repeat with the top and bottom, so you have a nicely folded package. Flip it upside-down, so the smooth underside is on top. Roll it gently with a rolling pin, taking care to not tear the dough while you ease it into a roughly 8" square. If you have parchment paper, place the borek on a large square of it. With a large knife, cut through all the layers halfway through each side and on the diagonal, yielding 8 little triangles. Pick up the parchment, and transfer the cut square into an 8" brownie pan (if you dont have parchment, just make sure your pan is well-greased). Cover lightly with a clean dishtowel, and let rise for about 1 hour.

When the dough is almost done rising, preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Gently brush the dough with the beaten egg, and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Place in the oven and bake until lightly browned, ~30-45 minutes. Let cool and serve.

Sometimes I give myself ideas by accident. A few weeks ago I was writing an ode/guideline to the classic potato latke for our local paper. I wanted to sing the praises of simplicity, contrasting its potato perfection against all the ridiculous, nouveau-what-have-you variations. So I wrote that my classic potato latke could hold its own against the frou-frou trimmings of a latke with...say... caramelized leeks, hashed parsnips, and... oh, feta and sweet potatoes. I smirked a little. And then I looked at what I wrote. And then I got hungry. Challenge accepted!

I wasnt entirely sure what to call this creation. Its almost more of a flatbread than a pizza. Its got a crust, true (in the Neapolitan style), but no lashings of red sauce, no thick top layer of mozarella. Im open to a new name, if youve got one. Whatever it is, its delicious.

I was initially got the idea for this pie the amazing Cheeseboard Collective, an cheesemonger/pizzeria that my Berkeley-based friends adore. Their pizzas tend to have unorthodox topping combinations, based upon the seasonal yield in Northern California. Although many sound strange (and upsetting to five-year-olds expecting pepperoni), they seldom disappoint.

Years ago I had a pizza of theirs, topped with sauce and cheese, and some of these ingredients. It was delicious, but I felt that there was a lighter, more summery pie trapped inside. I got rid of the sauce and cheese, upped the amount of chopped fresh tomatoes for moistness, and added more lemon juice and zest to tie it together. The result is reminiscent of the Minted Feta Flatbread, but more of a substantial meal, with the cilantro taking out of the Middle East, and into someplace else entirely. Its a wonderful way to use the seasons fresh tomatoes, brightened up with salty cheese, sharp lemon juice, and cilantro. Its perfect with a side of brown fava beans, a salad, or just on its own.


Lemony Tomato Feta Cilantro Pizza
makes two pies

crust adapted from Jeffrey Steingartens Neapolitan-American Pizza, although you can grab two bags of dough from the supermarket if youre tight on time

Dough:

3/4 tsp active dry yeast
1 1/2 cups cool water
1 1/2 tsp salt
3 cups flour

Topping:

scant 4 cups chopped tomatoes, drained in a colander of excess liquid
1 cup loosely-packed crumbled feta cheese
1/2 red or yellow onion, thinly sliced in half moons
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
olive oil for drizzling
1 bunch cilantro, washed and roughly chopped
juice and zest of 1 lemon
black pepper

To make the dough:

In the bowl of a mixer, combine the yeast and water and allow to sit for a few minutes for the yeast to soften. Add salt and flour, mix with a paddle until well combined. The dough will be very moist. Mix on slow speed with a paddle attachment for a minute (this can also be done with just a wooden spoon, if needed).

Coat a clean counter with a thick layer of flour, and pour the dough out. It will drift and ooze, like a big blob. Grab the floured underside, and gently fold it over the top, covering the dough blog. Let rest 10 minutes. Divide the dough in two, shape each piece into a ball, and place each in an oiled bowl. You dont need to oil the top of the dough -- just make sure it has a nice dusting of flour. Cover tightly with plastic, and allow to rise at room temperature until doubled (aobut 3-4 hours). Move to the refrigerator, for a minimum of 1 hour, an ideal of 3, and a maximum of 24.

To make the pizza:

Preheat the oven, with a pizza stone if you have, to 500 degrees for an hour. When its been almost an hour, prepare your toppings, and remove the dough balls from the refrigerator. Stretch the dough out to pizza size, and then place it on your pre-heated stone. Working quickly, scatter half the tomatoes over the pizzas, then half the feta, garlic and onions. Drizzle olive oil over the top. Place in the oven, and bake until the crust is browned to your liking (generally 10-15 minutes). If you have a pizza peel, you can assemble the pizza on the peel, then slide it onto the stone in the oven, avoiding the frenzied construction.

When the pizza is browned, remove from the oven. Scatter half of the cilantro over the top, half of the lemon zest, and squeeze the lemon juice evenly across. Grind some fresh pepper over it (the feta should supply enough salt, but feel free to add more if your feta isnt briny enough). Slice and enjoy. Repeat with second pizza.

Back in college, some friends and I ended up at a local pizza parlor one evening. The dining halls were long closed, and we needed a snack to keep us going through our late-night studying. Or, more accurately, late-night people-watching at the coffee shop. The pies at this pizzeria werent really memorable, but they were hot, cheesy, and loaded with toppings. Which is really all we cared about at that hour.

As we dug into our greasy slices, my friend Iskra pointed out the owners sitting at a nearby table. After theyd closed the doors for the night, theyd sat down to their own meal: a loaf of crusty bread that theyd just baked in the pizza oven, a ripe tomato sliced at the table, some olive oil and seasonings. Iskra sighed. "That reminds me of home," she said sadly, telling me about the simple summer meals of Croatia. A laden pizza, catering to American college students, had nothing on that elegant simplicity.

This isnt to romanticize the food of the Eastern Bloc, which by all accounts can often be awash with oil and bereft of seasoning. But there are some things that they can do right. Pastries, for one. And simple meals of good bread, cheese, and produce.

This wrapped sandwich reminds me of that idea; of simple ripe foods, of charred bread with briny cheese and juicy tomatoes. It makes a great breakfast, or afternoon snack. This is a recipe that can be as simple or complex as you want, depending on the contents of your pantry and kitchen garden. Either way, its delicious.

A Paula Wolfert recipe inspired this combination, and tipped me off to the salty-punchy combination of feta and mint. Im sure its not news to some (especially those who grew up in the land of brined cheeses), but it blew me away when I first tasted them together. The addition of smoky paprika makes it even better. I made this flatbread several days in a row. And when I ran out of flatbreads, tomatoes, and everything else, I smeared feta and mint on a rice cake and was still happy. Although I probably shouldnt admit that. The salty, tangy feta, the sharp dried mint, and the smoky pimenton (if youve got it) are the backbone on which this rests. Everything else can come and go with the seasons.

Minted Feta Flatbread
loosely based on Paula Wolferts Biblical Breakfast Burrito

This has countless variations, so it feels a bit silly to write it out. Consider this a basic template. Feel free to change it up as you like, omitting onion, substituting scallions, adding bell pepper, etc.

1 pita, tortilla, lavash, or other sort of flatbread
scant 1/4 cup crumbled feta
1/4 tsp dried mint
dusting of smoked Spanish paprika (Pimenton de la Vera)
1 small tomato, chopped
2 Tbsp minced onion
1 Tbsp chopped parsley
olive oil
salt & pepper

Warm up your flatbread, either in a skillet or, if you like to play with danger, over an open flame. Remove from heat, crumble in some feta cheese, and sprinkle with the mint and a dusting of pimenton. Add tomato, onion, and parsley. Moisten with olive oil if your feta and tomato arent juicy enough, and season with pepper (salt if you like, although the feta might take care of that). Roll up, and enjoy in the summer sun.

Last week I was working on an audio project, trying to cajole a two-year-old into singing "the wheels on the bus" into my microphone. My story is about public transit, and it would have made a fairly adorable little coda. But, as it turns out, two-year-olds dont always want to do what you want them to. Who knew?

As part of my assignment I snapped a few pictures of the willful little cherub, and as part of my song-taping tactic I scrolled through them to get him in good spirits. See look, its you! Who is that? Thats right! And whats that? In the middle of all this, I accidentally landed on these broccoli photos (the problem of scrolling through a food bloggers camera). Surprisingly, these turned out to be a highly amusing for the toddler set. I couldnt get this kid to sing the song in the end. But I did get lots of amusing tape of him saying bwoccoli, and then giggling at the absurdity of it all.

I cant say I share my subjects wide-eyed amusement with this dish. But I can say, without reservation, that this is a really really good dish, one of my happiest recent discoveries. It comes from 101 Cookbooks, and is a perfect trifecta of a recipe -- simple, healthy, and delicious all at once. And its not just everyday delicious -- its delicious in a really interesting way. 101 Cookbooks takes some basic ingredients, but uses them in an inventive (and wholly successful) combination. Broccoli is just barely cooked, and then you enjoy the delicious florets whole while blitzing the ho-hum stems into a garlicky pesto, which dresses up some quinoa. Then you toss in some buttery avocado and briny feta (and, if you follow the recommendations, some slivered almonds, but I ran out). Its my new favorite weeknight song.


Quinoa with Broccoli, Avocado and Feta

adapted, a bit liberally, from 101 Cookbooks
serves ~4, though we felt compelled to eat ridiculously large portions because it was so very good

If you want to make the broccoli pesto on its own (or have more control over the cooking time), you can boil the broccoli for a minute in salted water, then shock it to stop the cooking. But the lazymans one-pot version seems to work quite well.

2 cups salted water
1 cup quinoa
1 large bunch broccoli, cut into small florets and stems (peel if needed), ~ 5 cups
1 clove garlic, pressed (pressing isnt necessary if your blender or food processor works well, but I always seem to be left with a surprising jolt of garlic chunk if I dont cut it up first)
1/2 cup sliced or slivered almonds, toasted
juice of 1/2 small lemon
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
1 ripe avocado, cubed
1/4 cup crumbled feta

Bring the water to a boil in a large pot. Add the quinoa, cover, and lower the heat until its just high enough to maintain a simmer. Cook for 15 minutes, then turn off the heat, and add the broccoli and stems, and re-cover and allow to steam for 5 minutes. The broccoli should turn bright green and become just barely tender.

When everything has cooked, scoop the broccoli stems into a food processor or blender, and tip the remaining broccoli and quinoa into a serving bowl (if you dont want to fuss picking out the stems from tops, you can just take half the broccoli and not worry about which is which, but I find that going for just stems in the pesto isnt too much of a bother). Add the garlic, half of the almonds, the lemon juice and the oil into the processor, and pulse until a fairly smooth pesto is formed. Add salt and pepper to taste -- if youre using feta, you wont need as much salt, but keep in mind that the pesto will be spread throughout the quinoa. Tip the pesto onto the quinoa, and toss to coat evenly. top with the avocado, feta, and remaining almonds, and serve.